


her lightnings and shapeful disgrace

by Helianthusannuus



Category: Fallen London | Echo Bazaar, Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Female Javert, Female Valjean, Pages ships Valvert, Paris is the Sixth City
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 05:01:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26569993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helianthusannuus/pseuds/Helianthusannuus
Summary: The new Mayor of Fallen Paris is something of an enigma.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7
Collections: Sewerchat Anniversary Exchange 2020





	her lightnings and shapeful disgrace

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tolpen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tolpen/gifts).



“W-will that be all, sir?”

“Most certainforthly, Mademoiselle, I thank you for your time. I will be over in the windowed corner.” Mr Pages smiled at the Uncertain Librarian from under its hood, picking up the pile of books in front of it and shuffling across the room. Behind it, the Uncertain Librarian sighed (in relief, most likely) and got on with the paperwork strewn across her desk.

As it reached the corner, it frowned to see it wasn’t alone. A figure sat at the table, their back to Pages, their salt-and-pepper hair visible over the high, turned-up collar of an ochre-yellow coat. The figure turned at Pages’s footsteps, offering a wry glance as Pages huffed in indignation. “I instrumanded that this space be left unoccupied!” it squeaked. “I insist you departulate immediately!”

“I can but apologise; I had hoped to be in and out in a flash.” the woman said. Mr Pages calmed slightly as it recognised the Altruistic Mayor, a woman renowned throughout Paris for her kindness — and her love of books. “As you can see, my paperwork got the better of me, I will leave posthaste,” the Mayor apologised, moving to collect her books.

“No, no;” Pages changed its mind, sweeping some of the woman’s papers aside and setting its own books down, “stay awhile; I am undoubtfident you have much to tell, no? Governance to talk.” It leaned forwards, eager.

The Mayor had only recently been elected, and though Pages was as familiar with her as it was with any other person of some importance, it had had relatively little opportunity to get to know her in person. She was reclusive by nature, and even the ruthlessness of the election had revealed little about her true motivations or history: whereas the other candidates had exposed worrying details from the depths of each others’ pasts in their avid bids to discredit their opponents, the most shocking thing they had uncovered regarding the Altruistic Mayor was that she had not planned to run for the position. Despite her success and influence, despite being well-regarded by almost every citizen of Paris, the Mayor had eschewed any and all attempts to push her towards a position of authority — she had even intended to withdraw from the campaign until, it was rumoured, an Indignant Woman had shouted at her as she passed, _“A good mayor is a useful thing. Is she drawing back before the good which she can do?”_

The Mayor reordered her work to make room for the hooded figure’s books. “Nothing to report since last week, Mr Pages. The economy is as good as ever, the new factory is turning a tidy profit already and I am considering several potential locations for new schools. It has come to my attention that, although few of our gamins have access to education, our teachers are at capacity; we must build more schools so that every child has an equal opportunity.”

Pages nodded. It was no secret amongst the populace of Fallen Paris that Mayorship carried little weight politically, and that, no matter a candidate’s intentions, the Masters of the Bazaar would have the final say. But that was not to say that the Mayor had no lasting impact on the city beyond the streets and schemes of the Bazaar, and Pages was pleased with this latest candidate. She valued education and literacy, and more schools meant more readers, and more readers meant, perhaps, more writers and more stories.

Pages could always do with more stories.

It could also do with more readers for its own works — works of literary genius and poetic ingenuity, romantic intrigue and passionate devotion — works which its fellows seemed to scorn, but which were greatly beloved by all its Parisian reviewers.

“Funding shall be acquired postforwith,” it said, not specifying _how_ the aforementioned funding would be acquired. Some things it was best to leave ambiguous.

The Mayor seemed pleased, although she still didn’t smile. Come to think of it, had anyone seen the woman smiling? There was an air of distraction about her, a preoccupation with a cause upon which Pages could only speculate.

She continued talking about her ideas for renovating the city — things that seemed sensible, Pages thought; things which would complement its own desires most appealingly. It soon, however, tired of the subject, and decided to turn the conversation towards more personal matters.

In other words, it had taken note of the Lupine Inspector, who had in turn taken note of the Mayor. Perhaps the Inspector could be the cause of the Mayor’s distracted thoughts?

“Are you,” it began, wondering how best to phrase things to get the Mayor to divulge her secret, “at all acquainted with the Lupine Inspector?”

“The Lupine Inspector?” the Mayor’s eyes widened for a split second. She seemed almost on-edge. Pages knew intimately the way one’s heart could leap at the thought of one much-desired, the way one’s thoughts felt almost electric, the thrill which ran down one’s spine and quickened the pulse.

Pages had been there itself when the two had first met, when the Inspector had first begun working in Paris upon the recommendation of one M. Chabouillet. The Mayor had greeted her, had been nothing short of polite, expressing hope that her new colleague would find her workplace agreeable. “Affirmacertainly!” it smiled. 

“Uuuuhhhhhh…” said the Mayor.

Unusual for someone usually so articulate. Pages knew it was right.

Come to think of it, that would explain the Mayor’s strange behaviour towards the Inspector. The Mayor would nod cordially at the Inspector upon passing her in the street, as she would nod at anybody else; would give her the same attention and listening ear as she would give to any creature in the city; and yet had displayed towards the Inspector a distinct lack of actual friendliness.

Not that the Mayor had been particularly _friendly_ to anyone: it was a testament to the extent of her philanthropy that her epithet was the _Altruistic_ Mayor rather than the Reclusive Mayor. There was a degree of sadness and detachment about her — not dissimilar, thought Pages, to that about the Inspector.

The Lupine Inspector had been particularly well-suited to her previous job in Old New Newgate. She had seemed to endure the environment without complaint: whilst many could not contend with working there for more than a few months, the Lupine Inspector had been there for several years and seemed ready to continue indefinitely if her attempts at career advancement had fallen to the side.

She was an inescapable and midnight woman. She was steadfast, but ruthless in her steadfastness. Her loyalty was directed only towards Authority. She was austere to a degree very rarely seen amongst humans, and gave no thought to magnanimity. There were rumours that she was secretly a Snuffer; if that was the case, she had done a very good job of hiding it. Had she been a Clay Man, Pages knew, it would be almost certain there would be rumours that she was Unfinished, so little compassion did she have.

Not even a Clay Man had a heart that hard: even a stone heart could shatter[1].

Perhaps the Inspector’s was made of wood.

Speculations on the Lupine Inspector’s species aside, Pages noted the change in the Mayor’s expression: her mouth had quirked slightly, and her gaze had drifted to somewhere over Pages’s shoulder.

“I am expeculant that you will attend tomorrow night’s most marvelliant party!” it said brightly. “I know you have acknowleceived an invitation.” It paused to give the Mayor an expectant look. It knew the Mayor couldn’t see its expression under its hood, but she would understand anyway. The Mayor was often invited to prestigious events, but attended them rarely, if ever. It had heard she had hoped to eschew even the ceremony in which she had officially been pronounced mayor.

The Mayor nodded, a little stiffly. She had obviously not planned to go.

“The Inspector too will be in attendulation.”

The Mayor swallowed and fidgeted. She moved her arm, and Pages spotted the title of a book it adored.

“ _Wretched Lives_!” it exclaimed, delighted.

The Mayor looked confused for a split second, and then relaxed. She leant back a little, almost-smiled, put _Wretched Lives_ between them and brushed her fingers across the cover.

“I am reading it for the third time,” she said, her voice soft and genuine. “It’s a masterpiece.” She talked for a little about the genuineness present in the depictions of deprivation and despair, the messages of hope and desire for change, before launching into a surprisingly-passionate aside about the importance of shadow-fungus and how pleased she was to see it discussed in such a widely-read and well-received work.

Pages listened happily, agreed with her on the shadow-fungus, and began to talk about the intensity of the romances in the book.

By the time the two finished speaking, the candles on the table were on the verge of flickering out. The Uncertain Librarian had long since left to sleep. Pages left happily, looking forward to the intrigues the next night would bring.

**Author's Note:**

> [1] Pages had recently read a touching novelette concerning the false-star-crossed romance between two Unfinished Men; upon finishing the story, it had confiscated all other works created by the author, and was busily (and tearfully) making its way through them. Only for the sake of public decency, of course.
> 
> * * *
> 
> Fallen London is © 2020 and ™ Failbetter Games Limited: www.fallenlondon.com. This is an unofficial fan work.


End file.
